LIBRARY. 

UNIVERSl     \    OF  CALIFORNIA 
DAVIS 


„'-.        :       M> 


-j 

;  f 

oo 


, 


AND   OTHER  POEMS. 


BY 


DANIEL  KICKETSON, 


AUTHOR    OF    "THE    AUTUMN'    SHEAF,"    ET<J 


NEW   BEDFORD: 

E.  ANTHONY  &  SONS,  PRINTERS. 

1873. 


LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
DAVIS 


PREFACE. 

THE  object  of  these  Poems  is  not  to  increase  the  distance 
between  the  employer  and  the  employed;  but  to  express  a 
sympathy  for  a  large  and  useful  class  of  .the  community, 
through  whose  exhausting  labors  a  great  portion  of  the  most 
important  operations  of  our  time  are  performed,  in  the  hope 
thus  to  awaken  a  greater  interest  in  their  behalf  on  the  part 
of  those  who  have  it  in  their  power  to  relieve  them  from 
their  heavy  burdens,  believing  that  in  so  doing  the  blessing 
of  God  would  attend  the  much  needed  reform.  Looking 
forward  to  the  day,  as  I  hope  not  far  distant,  when  the  hours 
of  labor  shall  be  essentially  lessened,  and  the  health,  happi 
ness,  and  the  education  of  the  operatives  in  the  mills,  and 
other  laboring  classes,  receive  greater  consideration  than 
at  the  present  time,  I  contribute  these  humble  efforts  of  my 
muse  toward  that  end. 

"Ye  friends  to  truth,  ye  statesmen  who  survey 
The  rich  man's  joys  increase,  the  poor's  decay, 
'T  is  yours  to  judge,  how  wide  the  limits  stand 
Between  a  splendid  and  a  happy  land."  GOLDSMITH. 

D.  R. 

NEW  BEDFORD,  Sept.  1,  1873. 
2 


DEDICATION. 

To  the  honest,  industrious  poor,  and  to  all  good  and 
feeling  hearts  everywhere,  these  Poems  are  dedicated.  If 
it  be  true  that  "what  comes  from  the  heart  goes  to  the 
heart,"  I  shall  have  no  doubt  of  success  in  my  undertak 
ing." 

May  the  shamrock,  the  thistle,  the  rose  and  the  mayflower, 
At  no  distant  day  in  sweet  harmony  twine, 

And  the  nations  of  earth,  thence  forgetting  their  quarrels, 
Like  brothers  be  guided  by  friendship  divine. 


IPOIBMS. 


INDEX. 

PAGE 
THE  FACTORY-BELL, 11 

THE  IRISH- AMERICAN'S  PLEA, 13 

THE  IRISH  FACTORY-GIRL, 15 

THE  IRISH  HEART, 17 

Ax  AMERICAN'S  WELCOME, 18 

THE  EMERALD-ISLE, ID 

A  YOUNG  IRISH-WOMAN'S  MEMORIES  OF  HOME, 21 

MILL  NOTES  —  MOTHER  AND  DAUGHTER, 28 

THE  SCOTCH  FACTORY-GIRL, 20 

THE  WAITING-MAID, 28 

THE   WEAVER'S    SATURDAY-XIGIIT, 2D 

LINES  ON  BEADING  THE  SCOTTISH-EMIGRANT'S  FAREWELL,    31 

ENGLAND,   FAREWELL, 34 

To  T.  S., 30 

WHITSUNTIDE, 37 

EQUALITY  OF  BIRTH, 38 

BURNS'  PLAID, 40 

A  GREETING, 41 

THE  DAISY, 42 

ROBERT  EMMET, 44 

FREE  TRADE,  &c.,  .  40 


THE    FACTORY-BELL. 

HE  Factory-Bell  is  softly  tolling, 

Stealing  through  the  Summer  air, 
Gently  o'er  the  meadows  rolling, 
Reaching  scenes  of  Nature  fair. 

But  alas  !  its  tones,  though  mellow, 

Bring  a  sadness  to  my  heart, 
And  the  realms  that  these  should  hallow, 

Take  of  shade  and  gloom  a  part. 

For  it  calls  from  scenes  of  beauty, 
From  the  lovely  summer  day, 

Gentle  hearts  that  often  languish 
For  their  native  haunts  away. 

From  green  Erin's  rural  pleasures, 
From  stern  Scotia's  heather  hills, 

From  old  England's  home-born  treasures, 
To  the  toiling  of  the  Mills. 

But  for  all,  and  blessed  forever, 
One  o'errules  the  multitude, 


12  THE  FACTORY-BELL; 

The  all-wise,  the  great  Protector, 
Who  from  sin  educes  good. 

Thus  when  fate  seems  unrelenting, 
And  the  way  is  dark  and  drear,    * 

In  the  mist  his  arm  preventing 
Keeps  the  lowly  ones  from  fear ; 

Gives  unto  their  hearts  his  spirit, 
Brighter  than  the  noonday  sun, 

Wealth  the  poorest  may  inherit, 
Through  his  guardian  mercy  won. 

But  oh  !  ye  who  rule  and  dictate 
For  your  own  base,  selfish  ends, 

Nature  and  her  God  rebuke  you, 
And  at  last  require  amends. 

For  the  balances  are  nicely 
Fitted  and  adjusted  true. 

What  man  taketh  God  returneth ; 
Naught  escapes  his  sovereign  view. 

Still  the  Factory-Bell  is  ringing 
O'er  the  landscape,  soft  and  clear. 

I  will  trust  that  God  is  bringing 
With  it  hopes  the  sad  to  cheer. 


AND    OTHER    POEMS.  13 


THE  IRISH-AMERICAN'S  PLEA. 


were   you  exiled   from  your  dear  native 

land, 

Your  time  and  your  life  at  another's  command, 
Ah  !  would  you  not  think  it  uncivil  indeed, 
When  for  your  just  rights  you  would  honestly 

plead, 

Instead  of  kind  words  and  brotherly  love, 
You  should  find  those  around  you  quick  to  reprove  ; 
Or  count  it  all  wrong  what  your  conscience  deems 

right, 
And   look   on   your   heart-cherished   faith    with 

affright? 

No  fault  it  can  be,  if  we  hither  have  come, 
By  the  stern  hand  of  fate,  sad  exiles  from  home, 
To  better  our  fortunes  by  honest,  hard  work, 
In  a  land  of  the  Christian,  and  not  of  the  Turk. 
And  may  we  not  surely  add,  too,  our  claim, 
That  "  the  earth  is  the  Lord's,"  without  any  blame  ? 
That  "the  fullness  thereof"  to  his  children  belong; 


14  THE   FACTORY -BELL  ; 

Of  whatever  nation  or  kindred  or  tongue  ? 
The  Indian  before  you  long  held  as  his  right, 
The  domain  that  you  now  possess  in  your  might, 
And  he  far  away  in  the  wilds  of  the  West, 
Seeks  a  home  where  the  eagle  buildeth  his  nest, 
Away  from  the  hand  of  intrusion  and  spoil, 
While  you  are  the  lords  of  his  ancestors'  soil. 
We  are  willing  to  wqrk,  but  we  also  demand 
The  freedom  once  promised  to  all  in  this  land. 
Most  surely  the  wrongs  we  so  long  have  endured 
In  the  land  we  have  left,  we  hope  will  be  cured. 
Of  your  blessings  we  claim  a  very  small  part, 
In  return  we  assure  3  warm  Irish  heart ; 
Our  maidens  are  fair,  and  your  sons  soon  will  find, 
By  the  great  natural  law,  they're  quite  to  their 

mind ; 

So  if  in  the  future  one  race  we  shall  be, 
It  surely  is  wise  that  we  now  should  agree. 
'T  is  love  that  gives  justice,  and  no  selfish  end  — 
The  spirit  of  Truth  can  in  no  wise  offend. 
Our  God-given  rights  are  the  most  that  we  claim, 
And  for  this,  most  truly,  we  are  not  to  blame. 


AND   OTHER    POEMS.  15 


THE  IRISH  FACTORY-GIRL. 


's  only  a  poor  Factory-girl  ! 
That's  all,  perhaps,  you  see, 
Your  lip  iu  pride  at  her  may  curl, 
And  scorn  her  low  deree. 


A  poor  exile  from  Erin's  soil ! 

That 's  all  of  her  you  know  ; 
Who  in  the  Mill  must  daily  toil, 

And  trudge  through  rain  and  snow. 

You  see  not  through  that  dusty  gown, 
Nor  in  that  care-worn  face, 

The  halo  that  o'er  her  is  thrown, 
The  mark  of  Nature's  grace. 

You  see  not  there  the  noble  heart, 
That  beats  to  friendship  strong, 

The  native  charms,  above  all  art, 
That  to  her  soul  belong. 

But  He  who  orders  all  things  well, 
In  mercy  and  in  power, 


16  THE    FACTORY-BELL. 

Who  bids  the  ocean  billows  swell, 
And  paints  the  lowliest  flower, 

From  out  the  humbler  walks  of  earth 
Takes  those  the  proud  may  scorn, 

Nor  heeds  the  heirs  of  wealth  or  birth, 
His  favorites  to  adorn. 

Such  I  have  seen,  such  I  have  known, 
And  such  my  soul  admires, 

Whose  merit  rare  I  gladly  own, 
My  simple  song  inspires. 

Oh  !  may  my  sympathetic  muse 
Such  virtues  still  portray  ; 

And  from  fair  Nature  ever  choose 
Her  aid  to  grace  my  lay. 


AND    OTHER    POEMS.  17 


THE  IRISH-HEART. 

HE  Scotchman  is  canny,  his  virtues  are  many, 

John  Bull  has  in  greatness  his  part ; 
But  for  warmth  of  affection,  in  the  nation's  election, 
Stands  foremost  the  kind  Irish-heart. 

From  the  north  to  the  south,  from  the  east  to  the 
west, 

Wherever  his  footsteps  sojourn, 
Just  do  him  a  favor,  he  '11  prize  it  forever, 

And  give  you  a  score  in  return. 

While  others  are  ranging,  and  often  are  changing, 

And  thus  stumble  into  the  lurch, 
His  faith  is  unflinching,  the  years  only  clinching 

The  stronger  his  love  of  his  church. 

By  nature  so  frisky,  if  he  'd  leave  but  his  whiskey, 

And  trust  to  his  own  hearty  mirth, 
Of  all  the  good  fellows  on  life's  stormy  billows, 

He  would  rival  the  nations  of  earth. 

B2 


18  THE    FACTORY-BELL. 


AN  AMERICAN'S   WELCOME. 

JH  !  come  from  the  banks  of  the  clear-flowing 

Shannon , 

The  Liffey,  the  Boyne,  and  the  fair  river  Lee, 
One  heart  shall  at  least  extend  you  a  welcome, 
And  offer  a  home  in  the  land  of  the  free. 

Oh  !  long,  far  too  long  !  have  ye  met  with  derision, 
By  those  who  would  claim  to  be  Christian  and 
true ; 

'T  is  time  we  received  you  as  brothers  and  sisters, 
And  gave  you  as  strangers  the  welcome  your  due. 

For  us  ye  have  delved,  ye  have  wrought,  and  have 

suffered 

The  heat  and  the  cold,  for  many  a  long  year, 
Oh  !  what  now  without  ye,  so  strong  and  so  hearty, 
Oh  !  what  should  we  do,  if  ye  no  longer  were 
here  ? 

Let  every  kind  heart  come  up  to  the  rescue, 

And  show  unto  others  the  rights  they  may  claim, 

My  word  for 't,  you'll  find  a  warm-hearted  cheering  : 
The  praise  of  the  poor  is  far  better  than  fame. 


AND    OTHER    POEMS.  10 


THE  EMERALD-ISLE. 

fER  fresh  green  fields  rose  to  my  view, 
Her  abbey  walls,  and  turrets  gray, 
Her  sparkling  streams,  and  lakes  so  blue, 
Fit  scenes  for  loving  hearts  to  stray. 

Her  fields  of  yellow  waving  corn, 

The  reapers  busy  at  their  toil, 
The  lark  that  hailed  the  early  morn, 

To  cheer  the  tenants  of  the  soil. 

The  milkmaid's  simple,  rural  song, 
The  tender  words  of  loving  swain, 

The  healthful  sports  of  old  and  young, 
When  harvested  the  ripened  grain. 

My  friend,  kind  Andrew  Donaldson, 
With  soft  blue  eye  and  honest  face, 

An  exile  from  his  native  land, 

To  me  these  beauties  would  retrace. 

I  pitied  him,  so  far  away 

From  kindred,  home,  and  all  so  dear, 


20  THE    FACTORY-BELL  ; 

And  strove  his  rising  sighs  to  stay, 
Or  lend  unto  his  heart  some  cheer. 

Farewell !  old  friend,  long  since  the  grass 
Has  grown  upon  thy  humble  grave ; 

My  muse,  withhold  not  as  we  pass, 
A  tear  for  one  so  good  and  brave. 

Farewell !  old  isle  of  rich  and  poor, 
Mayst  thou  in  no  far  distant  days 

Fresh  blessings  find  for  thee  in  store, 
And  happier  bard  to  chant  thy  praise. 


AND    OTHER    POEMS.  21 


A  YOUNG    IRISH   WOMAN'S   MEMORIES 
OF  HOME. 

WRITTEN    AT    HER    SUGGESTION. 

fROM  the  home  of  my  childhood  now  far  away, 
I  fondly  recur  to  the  land  of  my  birth, 
The  sweet  native  spot,  the  dear  rustic  cot, 

The  scenes  of  my  childhood,  the  dearest  on  earth. 

Oh  !  well  I  remember,  nor  e'er  shall  forget, 
The  beauty  and  freshness  of  all  things  around, 

The  meadow,  the  brook,  and  each  cherished  nook, 
The  daisies  and  cowslips  so  often  I  found. 

My  labors  were  light,  and  my  troubles  but  few, 
Though  poor,   we  were  honest   and   lived   in 
content, 

Our  fare  it  was  simple,  our  hearts  they  were  true, 
And  thankful  for  blessings  a  kind  heaven  sent. 

But  the  day  of  misfortune  at  last  on  us  fell : 
To  cross  the  blue  sea  I  left  my  dear  home, 


22  THE    FACTORY-BELL  ; 

For  the  shores  of  old  England,  where  we  had  heard 

tell 
Was  plenty  for  all  who  hither  might  come. 

No  more  the  sweet  air  of  my  own  native  hills, 
No  more  the  fair  sight  of  fields  waving  with  grain, 

But  the  dust,  and  the  smoke,  and  the  noise  of  the 

mills, 
In  exchange  for  the  past  awaken  but  pain. 

Another  long  voyage  across  the  broad  sea, 

To  the  shores  of  the  new-world  an  exile  I  come, 

From  the  land  of  the  oppressed  to  the  laud  of  the 

• 
free, 

Where  the  poor  and  distressed  may  find  a  kind 
home. 

And  here,  far  away  from  Erin's  dear  isle, 
M}'  mind  oft  revisits  the  scenes  of  the  past, 

And  thus  many  hours  else  sad  I  beguile, 
But  sorrow  nor  joy  forever  can  last. 

And  so  with  my  lot  I'll  strive  for  content, 

And  new  pleasures  and  friends  be  ready  to  find, 

Still  grateful  for  all  by  a  kind  heaven  sent, 

For  friendship  and  truth  to  no  spot  are  confined. 


AND    OTHER    POEMS. 


MILL  NOTES.— MOTHER  AND  DAUGHTER. 

IRIA   DE     TROFU 

Sighs  from  the  deep. 

Mother. 

^ 

OME  lay  your  head  upon  my  breast, 

My  darling,  you  are  ill, 
'T  is  Satur'-night.  and  take  your  rest ; 
Forget  awhile  the  mill. 

You'll  have  the  time  till  Monday  morn 

To  rest  your  weary  head  : 
Oh  !  darling,  sigh  not  so  forlorn, 

Nor  look  as  you  were  dead. 

Daughter. 

I  know  the  rose  has  left  my  cheek, 
That  once  with  freshness  glowed ; 

Of  things  I  now  can  rarely  speak, 
Which  once  my  spirit  moved  : 

But  while  I'm  lying  in  your  arms. 
Dear  mother,  I  am  well ; 


24  THE    FACTORY-BELL  ; 

Here  I  am  safe  from  all  alarms, 
Nor  hear  the  factory-bell. 

Mother. 

Sleep,  then,  loved  one,  I'll  guard  thy  rest, 

And  bless  thy  spirit  mild  : 
As  calmly  now  upon  my  breast 

Thou  liest  as  when  a  child. 

The  mother,  with  a  mother's  love, 
Long  watched  o'er  her  so  calm, 

Till  nature  from  the  realms  above 
Dropped  down  its  heavenly  balm. 

Behold  them  there  in  that  small  room, 

In  one  long,  last  embrace, 
For  gentle  sleep  hath  sealed  their  doom, 

And  death  hath  left  his  trace  ! 

O  rich  men,  can  you  still  enjoy 
Wealth  purchased  at  such  cost, 

Nor  feel  the  canker  of  annoy, 
Where  so  much  good  is  lost? 

The  tale  is  one  not  overdrawn ; 
Blame  not  the  poet's  lay, 


AND    OTHER    TOEMS.  25 

Who  would  the  oppressor  thus  forewarn 
Against  the  judgment  day. 

And  for  the  patient  suffering  poor, 

The  cause  of  mercy  plead, 
Bring  faithfully  before  your  door 

The  hearts  you  make  to  bleed. 

In  vain  our  churches  we  behold, 

Their  battlements  and  spires  ; 
A  curse  is  on  the  glittering  gold, 

The  fool  so  much  admires. 

Professor  of  the  lowly  Christ, 
What  profits,  then,  your  prayer, 

If  unrebuked  within  our  midst 
Such  sins  pollute  the  air? 


26  THE    FACTORY-BELL  ; 


THE   SCOTCH  FACTORY-GIRL. 

LASSIE,  sweet  lassie  !  I  mourn  for  thy  lot ; 
The  rose  from  thy  cheek  is  fast  fading  away  ; 
How  gladly  I  'd  send  thee  to  thy  dear  native  cot, 
Once  more  with  thy  mates  'mong  the  heather  to 
play. 

The  daisies  and  blue-bells  still  bloom  as  before, 
The  rivulet  runs  on  its  way  to  the  sea, 

The  rose  and  the  jessamine  bloom  by  the  door, 
And  the  mavis  as  erst  sings  his  song  from  the 
tree. 

Oh !  poor  the  exchange  of  the  new-fashioned  dress 
For   the    simple    straw  hat   and   coarse  flannel 
gown, 

Thy  home  in  the  fields  with  Nature  to  bless, 

For  a  life  in  the  mill  and  the  close  crowded  town. 

O  Scotia,  beware  how  thou  drivest  away 

Hearts  wedded  in  love  to  the  dear  native  soil, 


AND    OTHER   POEMS.  27 

III  fur  distant  lands  as  a  refuge  to  stray, 

And  with   down-fallen  hearts  among  strangers 
to  toil. 

For  these  things  I  mourn,  fair  lassie,  thy  lot, 
And  picture  thee  oft  in  thy  childhood's  dear  home, 

Again  seated  'neath  the  old  rustic  cot, 

Nor  wishing  away  from  its  comforts  to  roam. 

But  God  still  is  good ;  let  us  keep  this  in  view, 
And  look  unto  Him,  and  to  Nature  so  kind. 

The  fields  here  are  green,  the  skies  richly  blue, 
Whose  blessings,  dear  lassie,  I  hope  thou  wilt 
find. 

One  hand  here  at  least  in  friendship  I  give, 

For   every  true   heart   from  the  laud   of  dear 

Burns, 
With  a  welcome  and  wish  in  plenty  to  live, 

And  the  blessings  of  God  with  the  year's   swift 
returns. 


28  THE    FACTORY-BELT, 


THE   WAITING-MAID. 

HOUGH  but  a  simple  waiting-maid, 

I  sec  in  her  such  neatness, 
And  in  her  gentle  words  and  ways, 
There  dwells  so  much  of  sweetness, 

That  I  have  said  within  my  heart, 
"  'Tis  true,  and  nothing  less, 

That  neatness  is  a  virtue  rare, 
And  next  to  godliness." 

I  oft  have  seen  those  who  are  called 
By  common  rules  more  pretty ; 

But  rarely  equal  in  the  ways 

That  grace  this  winsome  "Ketty." 

There's  many  a  miss  of  higher  rank, 
With  wealth  and  pride  o'erladen, 

Who  well  might  emulate  the  charms 
Of  this  sweet  cottage  maiden. 


AND    OTHER    POEMS.  29 


THE  WEAVER'S   SATURDAY-NIGHT, 

TO   M.    P. 

HE  week's  long  hours  at  length  are  past 

Its  labors  all  are  done. 
With  grateful  hearts  let  us  rejoice, 
The  morrow  is  our  own  ! 

The  bell  shall  not  disturb  our  rest 

Upon  that  blessed  morn  ; 
The  livelong  day  is  all  our  own ; 

Its  pleasures  who  would  scorn  ? 

Our  board  is  filled  with  wholesome  food, 

The  cloth  is  smooth  and  white, 
The  watchful  dame,  so  kind  and  good, 

The  stranger  would  not  slight. 

Permit  me,  then,  with  you  to  join 

In  gratitude  and  praise, 
To  Him  who  ruleth  everywhere, 

And  thus  our  voices  raise. 
c2 


30  THE    FACTORY-BELL  ; 

We'll  sing  the  songs  your  fathers  sung 

A  hundred  years  ago, 
For  in  this  land  of  liberty 

Our  hearts  with  joy  may  flow. 

And  while  good  cheer  around  is  spread, 
Naught  shall  our  comfort  jar, 

Nor  will  we  e'er  forget  the  dead, 
In  "Erin"  (dear)  "go  bragh  !  " 

We  '11  take  the  harp  from  Tara's  hall, 
Despite  what  Moore  has  sung, 

And  make  it  tell  the  tales  of  old, 
That  once  its  strings  outrung. 

Thus  welcome  in  the  summer  eve, 

Its  starlight  and  its  moon, 
While  join  our  hearts  and  voices  strong, 

In  some  old  favorite  tune. 


AND  OTHER  POEMS.  31 


LINES 


(tk  HERE'S  something  wrong  at  home,  O  Scotland  ! 
M^     When  such  brave  hearts  are  torn  from  thcc, 
And  bid  farewell,  once  and  forever, 
To  seek  a  home  beyond  the  sea. 

Wouldst  thou  tear  up  thy  mountain-daisy  ? 

Thy  blooming  heather,  hare-bell  blue  ? 
Ah  !  then  why  crush  or  rend  asunder 

Hearts  to  thy  soil  so  leal  and  true. 

Oh!  ye  whom  Fortune's  smile  hath  favored, 
Who  hold  the  power  to  curse  or  bless, 

Withdraw  no  more  your  kind  protection, 
But  save  your  children  from  distress. 

The  heart  that  loves  thy  hills  and  valleys, 

The  music  of  thy  feathered  choir, 
Deserves  thy  care  and  preservation, 

And  should  thy  noblest  zeal  inspire. 


32  THE    FAOTOHY-BELL  ; 

Already  they  whose  sires  of  old-time 
Stood  by  your  sires  in  battlefield, 

Are  scattered  through  our  western  wide-world, 
And  find  protection  'neath  our  shield. 

The  -^gis  of  our  state  extendeth 

Its  guardian  power  o'er  all  who  seek 

A  safe  asylum,  and  a  welcome, 
Refusing  neither  strong  nor  weak. 

Still  unto  thee,  O  valiant  Scotland ! 

The  land  of  Wallace,  Bruce,  and  Burns  ! 
My  muse  would  ask  from  harm  to  shelter 

The  heart  that  to  thy  bosom  turns. 

4 

No  longer  may  thy  sous  be  mourning 
For  "bonnie-Doon,"  or  "gurgling"  Ayr, 

But  from  thy  ample  stores  returning, 
Find  for  their  toil  a  liberal  share. 

But  if  thy  peasantry  destroyed, 
Like  Erin's  once  her  nation's  pride, 

As  sang  "  sweet  Auburn's  "  tuneful  poet, 
They  ne'er  again  can  be  supplied. 

Oh  !  may  such  fate  ne'er  fall  upon  thee  ! 

Forefend  thee  Heaven  from  such  dire  harm  ! 


AND    OTHER    POEMS.  33 

And  mayst  them  take  thy  struggling  children 
In  love  unto  thy  bosom  warm. 

Then  shall  thy  soil  rejoice  in  blessings, 
Then  shall  thy  realm  in  peace  abound, 

Thy  muse  shall  swell  her  song  of  praises, 
And  music  fill  the  air  around. 


34  THE    FACTORY-BELL  ; 


"ENGLAND,    FAREWELL." 

SUGGESTED    BY   A   PICTURE. 

MOTHER  stood  upon  the  deck,  her  boy, 
Her  youngest,  by  her  side,  taking  a  last 
Fond  look  of  their  dear  native  fatherland  ; 
How  sad  the  thoughts  that  crowd  into  her  brain, 
Thoughts  of  her  childhood  home  and  parents  dear  ! 
Brothers  and  sisters,  every  chosen  spot, 
Now  rise  before  her  mind,  and  sick  at  heart 
She  turns  away,  to  hide  the  falling  tears. 
Oh  !  hard  the  fate  that  drives  away  from  home 
Hearts  so  attached,  to  seek  in  lands  afar, 
Amid  the  wilderness  or  forest  rude, 
By  labor  and  by  suffering,  to  gain 
The  livelihood  denied  on  parent  soil. 
From  off  the  shore  the  wind  is  blowing  strong, 
Filling  the  sails ;  and  dashing  on  her  course, 
The  brave  ship  hastens  to  her  destined  port 
Across  the  broad  Atlantic's  watery  waste. 
No  more  the  village  green  and  ancient  church, 
Or  ruined  tower  with  clambering  ivy  clad, 


AND    OTHER    POEMS.  35 

Shall  greet  their  eyes  ;  but  in  their  stead  behold 

The  wonders  of  the  deep,  with  dangers  dire, 

Oft  threatening  to  o'erwhelm  their  struggling  bark. 

Or  lauding  safely  on  the  distant  shore, 

Amid  new  scenes,  new  faces,  all  unused 

To  customs  so  peculiar,  and  so  strange 

To  habits  all  confirmed  in  other  lands, 

Much  there  to  suffer  and  much  there  to  learn, 

How  fierce  the  struggle  even  here  for  food  ! 

But  not  all  dark ;  the  picture  oft  is  bright, 

And  where  the  heart  is  brave  and  hands  are  strong, 

A  comfortable  and  a  prosperous  home 

Is  often  made,  and  children  reared  to  toil, 

Become  established,  and  become  attached 

To  the  new  world,  prefer  it  to  the  old. 

Another  instance  of  o'erruling  power, 

Converting  seeming  evil  into  good. 

Mourn  not,  then,  O  dear  exile  !  for  the  home 

Thy  childhood  knew ;  but  look  with  fresher  hope 

Upon  the  home  adopted  by  thy  choice. 

Here  may  thy  children  and  thy  grandchildren, 

To  remotest  times,  find  peace  and  plenty. 


36  THE    FACTORY-BELL  ; 


TO   T.    S. 

AFTER    READING    HIS    MANLY    PROTEST    AGAINST    TIIK 
EXISTING    EVILS    OF    GREAT    BRITAIN. 

»HEN  England  drives  from  off  her  shores 

Such  minds  as  these,  through  woe  and  want,, 
And  keeps  at  home  such  countless  bores. 
Who  for  their  own  ends  ceaseless  rant, — 

There 's  little  hope  that  her  success, 

In  whatsoe'er  is  great  and  good, 
The  Lord  of  justice  e'er  will  bless. 

Or  guard  her  from  vicissitude. 

But  ye  are  welcome,  honest  hearts  ! 

There's  room  and  plenty  for  you  here, 
4  And  while  the  sun  his  warmth  imparts, 
From  tyranny  ye  Ve  naught  to  fear. 

For  every  man  to  vote  is  free, 

The  ballot-box  is  our  stronghold, 
Then  from  your  prison  barriers  flee, 

And  come  within  our  ample  fold. 


AND    OTHER   POEMS.  37 


WHITSUNTIDE. 

old  our  ancestors  on  England's  shores, 
In  the  sweet  rural  districts  and  in  towns, 
Enjoyed,  methinks,  more  cheerfulness  of  heart 
In  their  religion,  and  yet  found  no  loss, 
But  rather  gain  in  the  most  vital  part, 
Linking  the  highest  duties  of  the  church 
With  harmless  mirth  and  sweet  poetic  grace. 
Christmas  and  Easter  then  were  cUiys  of  joy ; 
The  huge  yule-clog  blazed  in  ancestral  halls, 
And  merry  dances  led  the  joyful  hours. 
While  healthful  games  at  Easter  cheered  the  year, 
And  so  at  each  return  of  Whitsuntide, 
While  not  forgetful  of  the  sacred  rites 
Due  to  the  church  as  on  the  other  days, 
Bedecked  with  flowers  borne  on  the  lap  of  May, 
They  bade  a  welcome  to  the  vernal  year, 
And  found  a  sweetness  in  its  sacred  rites, 
i) 


38  THE    FACTORY-BELL  ; 


EQUALITY   OF   BIRTH. 

j, 
HE  poorest  man  that  walks  on  earth, 

Is  he  not,  too,  my  brother? 
And  have  we  not  a  common  birth, 
The  earth,  our  common  mother? 

Away  !  then,  with  all  caste  and  pride 

Of  family  or  nation, 
And  gladly  take  him  at  your  side, 

Joint  heir  of  God's  creation, 

What  boots  it  if  the  world  we  gain, 

And  lose  all  else  beside  ? 
The  Briton,  Saxon,  or  the  Dane, 

Cannot  be  saved  by  pride. 

Of  but  one  blood  our  God  hath  made 

The  nations  of  the  earth  ; 
How  weak  our  pride,  then,  to  parade, 

Of  wealth,  or  power,  or  birth  ! 

Better  to  go  where  poor  men  go, 
And  lie  where  poor  men  lie, 


AND    OTHER   POEMS.  39 

Than  waste  our  days  in  mimic  show, 
And  basely  thus  to  die. 

Then  reach  me  forth  thy  honest  hand, 

Thou  man  of  common  clay  : 
I  claim  thee  for  the  chosen  band 

Who  hail  the  rising  day  ! 

The  day  when  God's  great  jubilee 

Shall  echo  far  and  wide, 
And  all  the  nations  shall  be  free 

From  tyranny  and  pride. 


40  THE    FACTORY-BELL  ; 


BURNS'   PLAID. 

/tlFT  owre  the  hills  and  far  awa', 

I     When  glint  the  wintra  e'en  star, 
The  poet-pleughman  held  afa', 

Wrapt  in  his  plaid, 
To  meet  some  frien',  or  bonnie  lass, 
Or  by  the  chimla-lug  to  pass 
The  livelong  e'en  aboot  the  glass, 

Graced  by  his  plaid. 

Oft  by  the  braes  o'  "  bonnie  Doon," 
Or  winding  Nith  beneath  the  moon, 
His  Ice-inspired  lays  he  'd  croon, 

Safe  in  his  plaid. 

Nae  doubt  his  lovely  Highland  maid, 
When  angry  gusts  gart  her  afraid, 
He  warmly  rowed  within  his  plaid, 

His  bonnie  plaid  ! 


AND    OTHER   POEMS.  41 


A   GREETING. 

all  good  fellows  everywhere 
My  heart  beats  true  and  strong : 
I  see  you  with  your  faces  fair, 
Though  mingled  with  the  throng. 

I  meet  you  on  the  broad  highway, 

Where  oft  I  walk  alone, 
When  evening  shades  shut  out  the  clay, 

And  brighter  scenes  have  flown. 

I  know  ye  by  your  easy  walk, 

Your  voices  full  of  cheer, 
And  often  halt  with  you  to  talk, 

Or  lend  a  listening  ear. 

A  blessing  on  each  honest  soul ! 

A  hearty  shake  of  hand  ! 
Nor  shall  the  base  the  world  control, 

While  ye  adorn  the  land. 

D2 


42  THE  FACTORY-BELL; 


THE  DAISY. 

TO    A.    R. 

MBLEM  of  innocence  and  love, 

The  Poet's  favorite  of  the  field, 
Thou  dost  my  admiration  move, 

And  food  for  pleasant  musing  yield. 

A  welcome  to  New  England's  soil, 
Though  sterner  than  thy  parent  sod, 

Yet  genial  to  the  laborer's  toil  • — 
The  laud  our  fathers  sought  of  God. 

Thou  canst  not  bear  the  wintry  cold, 
But  shrink'st  before  the  cutting  blast, 

Still  mid  our  flowers  more  hard  and  bold, 
However  rich,  thou  'rt  not  surpassed. 

Ah  !  much  from  thee,  thou  simple  flower, 
Comes  up  before  my  musing  mind, 

The  lover's  charm,  the  poet's  dower, 
While  all  in  thee  a  beauty  find. 


AND    OTHER   POEMS.  43 

The  laud  of  Burns,  romantic  Ayr, 

Where  thou,  sweet  daisy,  lov'st  to  grow, 

Bedecking  o'er  its  banks  so  fair, 

Where  its  clear  gurgling  waters  flow. 

Theme  of  the  poet's  choicest  lay, 

Thou  charming,  bright  "wee-tipped"  flower ! 
I  welcome  thee,  this  wintry  day, 

And  gladly  feel  thy  genial  power. 

God's  teachers  to  the  chastened  soul, 
The  fresh  wild-flowers  of  field  or  wood, 

That  exercise  a  rich  control, 
And  move  us  ever  for  our  s:ood. 


44  THE    FACTORY-BELL  ; 


EGBERT   EMMET. 


Warm  in  his  death-wounds  sepulchred." 

—  O'Connor's  child. —  CAMPBELL. 


^tj  HOU  noble  soul !  patriot  most  true  and  brave  ! 
M^     A  nobler  son  thy  native  land  ne'er  bore  ; 
There  was  no  hand,  alas  !  thy  life  to  save, 
A  victim  thou  to  a  tyrannic  power. 

Mourn,  harp  of  Iiinisfail !  thy  darling  mourn  ! 

While  here,  across  the  broad  Atlantic  wave, 
A  sympathetic  muse  would  in  her  turn 

A  tribute  pay  to  one  so  nobly  brave. 

A  martyr  thou  to  liberty  and  truth ! 

Here  in  this  western  world  thy  cherished  name 
Has  often  proved  a  watchword  to  our  youth, 

And  stirred  their  hearts  to  emulate  thy  fame. 

Mourn,  harp  of  Iiinisfail !  thy  early  grave  ; 

The  genius  of  thy  country,  Erin,  weep  ! 
O'er  his  sad  urn,  ye  willows,  ever  wave, 

Ye  patriots  everywhere  his  memory  keep  ! 


AND    OTHER    TOEMS.  45 

But  not  in  vain  !  the  fire  them  there  didst  light, 
Still  in  thy  nation's  bosom  fiercely  glows ; 

The  cruel  power  that  o'er  thee  cast  its  blight, 
Prophetic  of  its  future  downfall  bows. 


46  THE  FACTORY-BELL  ; 


FREE  TRADE,  FREE  SOIL,  FREE  MEN, 

O  !  for  free  trade,  ye  sons  of  toil, 

A  commerce  from  oppression  free, 
The  land  ye  till,  in  truth  free  soil, 
Yourselves  the  sons  of  Liberty. 

Throw  out  the  banner  to  the  wind ! 

Write  on  its  folds  the  words  so  brave  : 
"Freedom  to  Trade,  to  Soil,  to  Mind  !" 

And  thus  our  Nation's  honor  save. 

No  more  should  selfish  millionaires 
Control  our  nation's  weal  or  woe, 

But  every  one  by  goods  and  wares, 
Have  equal  chance  in  wealth  to  grow. 

The  evils  of  the  older  world 

Already  thunder  at  our  door, 
And  soon  their  bolts,  in  fury  hurled, 

May  seal  our  fate  forevermore  — 

Unless  aroused  with  might  and  main 
To  meet  the  common  foe  of  all, 


AND    OTHER    POEMS.  47 

The  tocsin  ring  from  hill  to  plain, 
Through  every  village,  farm  and  hall. 

Not  chartered  right,  but  human  right ! 

The  right  of  every  honest  man 
To  reap  the  fruit  of  labor's  might  — 

The  right  to  think,  to  work,  or  plan. 

A  currency  upheld  by  gold  — 

A  paper  dollar  good  at  par  — 
A  hundred  cents,  as  was  of  old  — 

No  discount  base  its  worth  to  mar. 

'T  is  agriculture,  first  and  best ; 

'Tis  commerce  from  her  chains  set  free, 
Mechanic  arts  by  freedom  blest, 

That  shall  maintain  our  liberty. 

Let  not  our  land  become  the  seat 

Of  prisons  for  the  exiled  poor, 
But  seeking  souls  a  welcome  meet, 

And  room  within  the  open  door. 

No  land  monopolies  should  here 
E'er  exercise  their  base  control ; 

Nor  corporations,  far  and  near, 

Wreak  on  the  poor  their  want  of  soul : 


48  THE    FACTORY-BELL  ; 

But  ever  worthy  of  his  hire 
Let  every  honest  laborer  be, 

And  all  whom  higher  aims  inspire, 
Have  equal  rights  on  land  or  sea. 

The  wrong  that  to  the  poor  is  done 
Will  not  alone  upon  them  rest, 

But  surely  as  the  constant  sun, 
Oppressor  suffer  with  oppressed. 

For  He  who  orders  all  above, 

Hath  so  ordained  the  life  of  man, 

That  other  than  the  law  of  Love 
Must  ever  find  His  sovereign  ban. 

'Tis  equal  justice  through  the  land 
That  can  alone  insure  success, 

All  else  will  prove  a  rope  of  sand, 
And  fall  before  almightiness. 

Repeal  the  laws  that  man  hath  made  ! 

Which  now  too  oft  protect  the  knave, 
And  give  once  more  to  toil  and  trade 

The  rights  that  nature  kindly  gave. 


RETURN  TO  the  circulation  desk  of  any 
University  of  California  Library 
or  to  the 

NORTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 
Bldg.  400,  Richmond  Field  Station 
University  of  California 
Richmond,  CA  94804-4698 

ALL  BOOKS  MAY  BE  RECALLED  AFTER  7  DAYS 
2-month  loans  may  be  renewed  by  calling 

(415)642-6233 
1-year  loans  may  be  recharged  by  bringing  books 

to  NRLF 
Renewals  and  recharges  may  be  made  4  days 

prior  to  due  date 

DUE  AS  STAMPED  BELOW 


OCT111988 


Cy cty  t orcf ' 

PAMPHLET  J""*" 

Syracu. 


=  »•<»•  339406 

PS2699 

Ricketson,  D.  R5>U 

The  factory-bell,         F3 


LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF   CALIFORNIA 
DAVIS 


